Smaug is Dead!
by sazza-da-vampire
Summary: Family Matters. The news ran through the Halls like wildfire. Smaug is dead! The whisperers chanted. Slain by a Man, the gossips added knowingly. In council, the Prince hesitated, but then ploughed on with his words tumbling over one another, "What of the dragon's hoard?" Thranduil answered, "We cannot afford to have rich orcs for neighbours." Legolas in the lead up to the 5 Armies


Disclaimer: I own nothing recognisable

Smaug is Dead!

The news ran through the Halls like wildfire. _Smaug is dead!_ The whisperers chanted. _Slain by a Man_, the gossips added knowingly.

Legolas was in council with the leaders of the army, and the most skilled healers. Only a short time ago, before the _Lalaith_ operation in Dol Guldor, Legolas would have felt very out of place among such a Council, but today he felt worthy of his presence among the Commanders of the Army of the Greenwood.

As Crown Prince, Legolas had the right to attend these councils, but this was the first council meeting where he would not be considered an inexperienced youth, one fit only to listen and not to speak.

The Master of Arms, Thaliondíl, explained the most recent reports. "I have received word through the trees from a scout. Tuilë was on the eastern border when the dragon attacked Laketown," he stated, grey eyes flashing. "The town is destroyed, and the survivors are attempting to live on the lakeside. They have a new leader, it seems. Bard the Bowman, they are calling him, for he shot the dragon down."

"Indeed, the birds have spoken of this also," Legolas added, knowing that the pure Sindar gathered would not have heard from the birds directly.

A short silence followed this proclamation. "We should send aid," Culdol stated, receiving a number of nods in agreement.

"Have those Dwarves been seen since?" Thranduil asked, looking to his Commanders, for the scouts reports usually went to them first. Thaliondíl, whose scouts had been in the area, shook his head.

"Not a word. Galenmír is stationed on the west side of the mountain, and he sent a message through the trees that the Dwarves had vanished after the dragon visited his wrath upon the east face of the mountain."

Thranduil sighed heavily. "We can assume the Dwarves have perished, then. The Men of Laketown need help, clearly. We cannot leave them to die. Culdol, gather your healer-warriors. We leave in three hours, for Laketown."

"My Lord?"

"Yes, Bragolaglor?"

The Prince hesitated, but then ploughed on with his words tumbling over one another. "What of the dragon's hoard?"

There was a single snort of laughter, quickly stifled, which no-one owned up to, each face being studiously blank. Legolas privately suspected his sister Nímloth to be the culprit, though he could not prove anything. _Though_, he thought, _it could have been Tauriel, the drunkard who lost the Dwarves in the first place_.

Thranduil leaned his elbows on the table, chin on his hands. "We cannot afford to have rich orcs for neighbours. The orcs in the Grey Mountains are trouble enough, and those are ill-equipped. The Dwarves of the Iron Hills are too far away, they will never lay claim to the Mountain before goblins or orcs get there. The Men of Laketown can hardly keep themselves alive, they cannot lay claim to the mountain hoard."

"You mean we have to defend it?" Nímloth cried, socked that her beloved father would suggest such a thing as fighting for gold.

"We cannot let goblins or orcs take it, and we are the only people within a reasonable distance with an army," Thranduil reasoned, though his warriors protested. The advisors, Hîmdol and Bragolmel, murmured their agreement, as they pored over a map, tracing lines with their fingers.

"We do not have the resources to defend the Mountain as well as our own home," Thaliondíl protested, and Bragolaglor agreed fervently.

"Dol Guldor was emptied only a few days past. We have a large unit currently indisposed," the Elvenking argued.

Legolas shook his head. "No, Adar, _Lalaith_ cannot be permanently stationed at the Mountain. Dol Guldor will rise again, and _Lalaith _is the most qualified unit to defend against it, excepting perhaps the Southern Mirkwood patrol. Some elves are in both units."

"I would much rather be hard-pressed to defend the Mountain as well as the Greenwood, than attempt to defend the Greenwood against rich orcs from the Lonely Mountain," the King declared, and that was that.

Elvenqueen Aldariel stood, and declared the meeting over, with a few orders. "Thaliondíl, Bragolaglor, Legolas, gather the legions. Thaliondíl, swordsmen are to march in two hours, directly to the Mountain. Legolas, the archers are to march in three hours. Bragolaglor, your elves march in four hours, to Laketown. My healers will travel with the woodworkers, bakers, anyone able to help, by river. We leave at dawn." Aldariel, of course, would be leading the healers, being a healer herself.

And so it was, within a day of the dragon's fall, that the host of the Elves was already marching towards Laketown when messengers intercepted them, asking for help.

Three days after the dragon's death, the host marched down a forest path. Legolas sent a message through the trees when he spied the Mannish messenger, and Thranduil appeared at the head of the legion of archers a few moments later.

"Elvenking," the messenger said, bowing to the tall Elf. "I beg aid for Laketown!"

"I am listening," Thranduil stated, and the messenger relayed his message.

"The dragon has been killed by Bard the Bowman," he started, accepting a skin of water from Tauriel, the disgraced guard, and gulping thirstily. "But the town is destroyed. We beg aid, that we can build shelter, for winter comes quickly. It is believed that the Dwarves were attacked shortly before the town was, three days ago."

"That will be the last we shall hear of Thorin Oakenshield, I fear," said the king. "He would have done better to have remained my guest. It is an ill wind, all the same," he added, "that blows no one any good." (p306, _The Hobbit_)

It was then that Legolas noticed again the crows, which had been gathering above the army all day as they approached the edge of the wood. They were by now a thick cloud, such as Legolas had never seen before, save perhaps fleetingly glimpsed above the trees of Dol Guldor a week earlier.

The messenger was lent a horse, and the army proceeded towards Laketown, and Legolas rode at the vanguard with his archers, Tathar as ever by his side.

A short way behind, Thranduil rode square between Lothellon and Tauriel.

It was around this time that the boats and the rafts, loaded with wood for building and woodworkers, or loaded with stores and healers, overtook the host, which was mostly on foot.

Legolas, Tathar and Brethilríl waved as Brethildíl passed by, precariously balanced atop a raft of tethered barrels. The warrior-healer laughed gaily at her brother and their friends, and called out in the Silvan dialect, "Oh, Greenleaf, you look so fine! Your crows contrast so nicely with your golden hair!"

Tathar and Brethilríl laughed loudly, and a few paces behind, Rílglín over-exaggerated an imitation of Legolas' reaction to his comrades, provoking much laughter, as Legolas retorted, "They aren't my crows!"

Eregalen, a woodworker whom Legolas had known forever, rode the next raft, chuckling at Brethildíl's antics. "Legolas!" he called, as he caught sight of the Crown Prince through the trees, "Shall I make you a tree-house when I get to Laketown?"

"No, thank-you," Legolas replied. "Though if you could give Brethildíl a good whack over the head with one of those logs I'd be much obliged."

"She's a warrior and a healer, I'm just a woodworker," Eregalen called back merrily. "I'm too scared! She'll hit me back, and then she'll give poison me while pretending to heal me!"

Legolas laughed, and Brethilríl shouted back an agreement, for his sister could indeed be rather nasty when she had a mind for it. A moment later, both Brethildíl and Eregalen slipped around a bend in the river, and were lost from sight.

Legolas thought he heard a sarcastic remark from behind, but when he turned to look, he saw only Tauriel and Lothellon on either side on his father.

When he glanced at the river, he was surprised to see his lady mother riding a raft, a wide grin on her face, her warrior-style pants and tunic soaked with flecks of water. Sílívren, her bodyguard and Aldanna's mother, was equally wet at her side, sitting on their cargo of boxed healing supplies. "Nana!" he called, surprised that she would travel in such a fashion.

"Ho! Legolas!" She called, waving energetically to her son. "This is the life! You should have been a healer!"

"Lady Aldariel, what are you doing?" Tathar called, slightly shocked that the gentle Queen would actually ride a raft.

"Isn't that perfectly obvious?" she called, as she disappeared around the bend. Legolas and Tathar exchanges grins, shaking their heads at the elleth's antics.

"I never thought I'd see the day," Brethilríl commented. When Legolas turned to look at him quizzically, he nodded towards the river. "Aldanna, locked up in the healing wards, while Aldariel is on an adventure." The elves managed to keep straight faces for all of five seconds, before bursting into merry laughter.

The next day, they reached the edge of the path along the forest fringe, and crossed into the marshes and treacherous ground between the forest and the lake. Legolas and his friends had never crossed such ground before, being used to the trees of their home and the occasional plain or mountain on their early patrols, and so Legolas' legion of archers were slowed significantly during the crossing of the marshes, for many of their members lost their footing time and again.

At dusk, when they finally crossed onto dry land, Tingallos, Legolas' second-in-command and an older archer, observed wryly that anyone could tell who in the legion was younger than five long-years old. Everyone covered in mud and slime glared at the infuriating archer, whose spotless armour was still pristine, as if he had not just spent a day crossing a treacherous mire. This time, everyone heard clearly when Tauriel started mouthing off, using some very colourful language as she attempted to scrape muck off her skin and out of her eyes.

Five days after the death of Smaug, the King's healers, Legolas' archers and Bragolaglor's spearmen arrived at Laketown. Thaliondíl's swordsmen sent a message through the trees that they were safely ensconced on the side of the Mountain, lying in wait for any goblins or orcs.

While the sick Men were treated, and the woodworkers began planning the building of the new town, Bragolaglor's elves helped the Men raised temporary shelters on the lakeside. Legolas' archers were officially the guards, with half posted as protection around the camps of Men, but half – including Legolas himself – took that first day as an opportunity to bathe in the lake, for the passage through the marshes had left the younger members of the legion rather unclean.

After giving the ellyth adequate time and privacy to clean up, the muddy ellyn took over the bank.

Tathar, Legolas, Brethilríl, Rílglín and Encalion helped each other strip off their sodden armour, in order to bathe. Legolas ducked under the water, and came up to the sounds of laughter from his friends. "A plume of dirt came off you, Legolas!" Tathar laughed. Legolas scowled, but then turned to jolly laughter as Tathar ducked underwater, and the dirt which had been dried into his dark hair came free, staining the immediate vicinity dark brown.

"Tathar!" Legolas crowed. "I do believe you had more dirt in your hair than I!"

"Oh no," Brethilríl disagreed. "It was just more surprising, for we could already see that your hair was full of mud!"

Rílglín and Encalion fared little better, and the five friends teased and laughed at each other as they cleaned the dirt of the marshes off their bodies. "We're missing someone," Rílglín noted, frowning as he looked across the bank, where groups of Ellyn were cleaning up. "Is Galenmír disagreeing with someone?"

"No," Encalion stated, leaning back nonchalantly, though his friends all saw straight through his act to see that he was affected by his best friend's absence. "He's with the swordsmen, heading straight for the mountain. Celebglín wanted to keep an eye on him."

"So are you here because your comrades are, or because your father is second-in-command?"

"Rílglín, is it so unbelievable that I don't mind being in the same unit as my father?"

"Yes. Yes it is." Rílglín's father was a swordsmith, and it wasn't surprising to Legolas that the older ellon didn't particularly want him around during battle and travel – he'd be constantly telling his son that he's not treating his blade right, after all.

"At least none of you have to answer directly to your fathers," Legolas commented. "And you can hide amongst the other warriors. I'm on display." His friends only laughed, hitting him playfully on the shoulder.

Once they redressed, Legolas sent the now clean half of his legion to work, though he kept his close friends by his side to assess the damage to the town itself.

Six days later, Legolas' archers and Bragolaglor's warriors accompanied the Elvenking north, towards the Mountain, leaving most of the healers behind with the remnants of Laketown.

Bard the Bowman led all the men of arms who were still able, but his army was eclipsed by the host of the Elves. Legolas marched proudly at the head of the archers, his bodyguard Tathar at one side and his second, Tingallos at the other. Immediately behind him marched Brethilríl and Brethildíl, who, as a warrior and a healer, was one of the healers accompanying the army, just in case.

It was night when the Elves and Men arrived at the Lonely Mountain. Legolas, leading his archers along the east bank, had travelled a farther distance than Bragolaglor and the Elvenking and Bard, who had travelled up the west bank. Campfires sprang up in the places chosen by the army to sleep, and soon bellies were full and warriors slept.

In the early morning, Legolas joined the company approaching the Lonely Mountain.

Thaliondíl had warned the Elves that there had been activity inside the Mountain, and in a series of whistles explained that there were new defences at the Front Gate, but Legolas was still moderately surprised to see that the Gate had been blocked off by new-hewn stone, and a pool had formed before it.

"Who are you," an imperious voice called from the top of the wall, causing the Elves and Men to look up, squinting to see the little figure of the Dwarf, "that come as if in war to the gates of Thorin son of Thrain, King Under the Mountain, and what do you desire?" (p314, _The Hobbit_)

Bard said nothing. Thranduil said nothing. The Elves quickly turned and left, seeking out Thaliondíl and his swordsmen. The Men retreated soon after, confused by this turn of events, for surely the Dwarves could not have _sent_ Smaug to Laketown after all?

The main camp moved east of the river, right between the arms of the mountain. Legolas and the younger Elves took out small instruments, or sang, and soon a jolly party was going on, for the news that the Dwarves yet lived was welcome to the Elves.

Legolas danced merrily with Brethildíl, and soon she was stolen away for a dance with Tathar, who jokingly poked his tongue out at Legolas over the elleth's shoulder.

Rílglín, sitting beside Legolas on a rock and watching the dancers, swayed gently with the music. "I would that Aldanna were here," he mused, and Legolas smirked at the marginally older ellon.

"She always loved to dance," Legolas commented, smiling sadly. He did not need to be reminded that his best friend lay in the healing ward at home, her body broken and her veins poisoned by a giant spider of Dol Guldor. He shook his head to free himself of the memory of her fall. "But if she were here, she would have already climbed the wall."

Rílglín laughed shortly. "Aye, and then we would be stuck explaining to your father why we let her do such a thing."

Legolas chuckled darkly. "Thorin would probably attempt to make an example of her, taking her to be a thief in the night, after his gold."

"How would we ever explain to that stubborn Dwarf that the silly elleth just likes to push the boundaries?" Rílglín wondered idly.

"Push the boundaries indeed," Legolas rolled his eyes. Aldanna had once dyed himself and Tathar blue, long ago, just because she could. When they were children, she had suggested playing hide and seek in the cellars, resulting in an impromptu trip to Laketown, with all three of them inside barrels. When they were deemed old enough to drink wine, Rílglín and his friends had acquired some kind of illegally strong beverage, and Aldanna (and Legolas, Tathar, Brethilríl and Brethildíl) had drank far too much, resulting in blinding hangovers.

"To Aldanna," Rílglín raised his glass of wine, and Legolas raised his also.

"To Aldanna," he intoned. "May she never climb that wall!"

Ten minutes later, Legolas was pulled into a rendition of an old Silvan dancing song, and the Crown Prince found himself dancing and singing with many joyful Elves, and even a few bemused Men who were pulled into the dance. When Rílglín dragged Tauriel into the circle, she offered a few half-hearted protests, but her wide grin betrayed her, and even she, the sourpuss of the Elven army, was soon dancing merrily.

The next morning, Legolas once again accompanied the company to the Gates. He bore the green banner of the Elvenking, while a Man bore the blue banner of the Lake, and the King was surrounded by Bragolaglor's best spearmen.

"Who are you that come armed for war to the gates of Thorin son of Thrain, King under the Mountain?" (p317, _The Hobbit_) Thorin hailed them, and Legolas looked up into the Dwarf's distant eyes. Dragon sickness, Legolas realised, had claimed the Dwarf. He had seen it once before, long ago, when he had been a child and Smaug had first come to the Mountain, in the eyes of a Dwarf, attempting to run back into the fallen Mountain. Later he had discovered that Dwarf to be Thror, the King under the Mountain. Thror's grandson, it seemed, had caught the dragon sickness, also.

Legolas had never coveted gold before, but that was the moment when he realised that greed for gold was just as dangerous as greed for power.

Bard stood forward, his face as grim as ever. "Hail Thorin! Why do you fence yourself like a robber in his hold? We are not yet foes, and we rejoice that you are alive beyond our hope. We came expecting to find none living here; yet now that we are met there is matter for a parley and a council." (p317, _The Hobbit)_

The conversation which followed between Thorin and Bard was barely above insults, and Legolas' eyes hardened when Thorin insisted that the Elves leave.

Legolas was one of the banner-bearers that returned hours later, and as the Crown Prince had been bullied into speaking to the dragon-sick Dwarf.

"In the name of Esgaroth and the Forest," he cried, his clear voice cutting through the air between them, "we speak unto Thorin Thrain's son Oakenshield, calling himself the King under the Mountain, and we bid him consider well the claims that have been urged, or be declared our foe. At the least he shall deliver one twelfth portion of the treasure unto Bard, as the Dragon-slayer, and as the heir of Girion. From this portion Bard will himself contribute to the aid of Esgaroth, but if Thorin would have the friendship and honour of the lands about, as his sires had of old, then he will give also somewhat of his own for the comfort of the men of the Lake."

Legolas was glad that Tathar had bullied him into carrying a shield then, for the Dwarf suddenly shot an arrow, which Legolas caught in the wood, and it stuck there, quivering.

"Since such is your answer," Legolas called, his voice managing not to shake, "I declare the Mountain besieged. You shall not depart from it, until you call on your side for a truce and a parley. We will bear no weapons against you, but we leave you to your gold. You may eat that, if you will!"

Legolas returned to the camp, the banner-bearing Man at his side. "They will not last a week," the Man commented smugly. "Not even a Dwarf can eat gold."

"We shall see," Legolas replied quietly. "I dearly hope they give in long before then, for I fear that we are not the only army near enough to reach the Mountain."

"What do you mean?"

"We have reason to believe that goblins in the northern mountains and perhaps even the Misty Mountains might attempt to take the gold. I do not want to be caught between a Dwarf with dragon-sickness and an army of Goblins, but we cannot accept the risk of rich orcs for neighbours."

A few nights later, Legolas heard a splash. "That was no fish!" Tingallos commented, searching the darkness with his lantern's light. Legolas joined the quickly growing group of Elves at the river's edge.

"There is a spy about," Tingallos continued in Westron, for the benefit of the few Men gathered nearby, as the Elves searched with sharp archer's eyes. "Hide your lights! They will help him more than us, if it is that queer little creature that is said to be their servant." (p324, _The Hobbit)_

"Servant indeed!" a voice said, or tried to say, for a sneeze caught him halfway through the words.

Legolas, Tingallos, Tathar, Rílglín, Brethilríl and Brethildíl quickly located the source and gathered about the invisible little creature, who they had assumed, was only a rumour until now.

"Let's have a light! I am here, if you want me!" Suddenly, a child sized creature flickered into view, and Tathar seized him quickly.

"Who are you?" Legolas immediately asked, and then questions tumbled from his comrades, one after the other.

"I am Mister Bilbo Baggins," he answered, giving his name is a fashion unfamiliar to the Elves, and by the quizzical looks of the two Men a few feet away, unfamiliar to them, also, "companion of Thorin, if you want to know. I know your king well by sight, though perhaps he doesn't know me to look at. But Bard will remember me, and it is Bard I particularly want to see." (p324, _The Hobbit)_

The little creature convinced the Elves to take him to Bard, and so, after a short conversation in lilting Silvan, the Elves escorted the hobbit through the camp, and to a warm fire.

Legolas stood outside the firelight while Bilbo spoke to the king and to Bard. The little hobbit seemed quite unaware that he was surrounded by dozens of armed Elvish warriors, and spoke quite frankly to his hosts.

Tauriel barely heard a word of the Westron conversation, as her eyes drifted constantly towards Rílglín, standing just visible through the gap in the tent walls. The Elvish warrior shifted his stance, and his leather armour creaked, and Tauriel caught herself very unprofessionally dreaming about taking Rílglín for a walk by the lake.


End file.
